Getting Out the Vote
by Nightingale63
Summary: Canon to Season 4, episode 4. Kurt goes home to help his dad get out the vote in Ohio. Will a chance meeting help break the painful silence he's lived with since that awful day? Warning: Partisan! The Hummels support President Obama. By popular request, now *not* a one-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own Glee. But I totally own the right to vote in this country!**

"Hey, kiddo! You made it!"

Kurt smiled, as he melted into his father's crushing hug. Pain aside, he had other reasons to be in Ohio sometimes, and being here at his father's office, temporarily a hub of the Ohio GOTV (Get Out The Vote) effort, felt right. It was true that he could have supported the President from his home in New York, but it wouldn't have been the same. Before Hurricane Sandy had hit, he'd decided to go home, to put his volunteer effort where it counted, working the phones and going door to door in the battleground state. Rachel had only had her power restored yesterday, and repairing the damage from the flooding was an ongoing task all over the city, disrupting the routines of life.

"How could I not? Someone has to make sure you don't eat too many donuts." Kurt smirked at his father, and gestured at the table set up for the volunteers, stocked with donuts as well as home made goodies, bottles of water, and a coffee station.

"You think Carole's not on that? But hey, if it gets you home for a visit, sure." Congressman Burt Hummel smiled broadly at his son, searching his face. Kurt did look happy to be here, but his expression was still guarded enough that he didn't have to ask; things were still unresolved with Blaine.

Laura bustled up to the congressman's side, full of enthusiasm and smiles. "Fresh meat! Great, I'll be happy to get you start-"

"Um, Laura, this 'fresh meat' you refer to is my son, Kurt."

"Oops, sorry, sir!" The young woman's excitement looked momentarily dimmed. "Let me know when he's ready, I'll be right over there."

Kurt smiled at her retreating form. "You do have some enthusiastic people here." He looked at the long tables, filled with volunteers with open laptops, talking on phones, occasionally jotting notes.

"Coffee, son? I know it's not that fancy stuff you like, but it's not bad; Carole made it, and it's fresh."

"Thanks, dad. So, how's it going?"

"Me? The election? Both?" He paused. "Well, we miss you, you know that. But I'm getting a lot done, or at least what passes for a lot in Congress," he snorted. "I've got a great volunteer base here; they've been working hard for weeks on the re-election."

Kurt didn't have to ask whose. His father wasn't up for re-election yet, but they'd been strong Obama supporters from before he ever thought about joining political life. This election was crucial: the stakes were high, and no one was saying this time that the candidates were the same, who cares. Obama and Romney were indeed strikingly different in their views as well as modus operandi. And Romney's supporters, some of whom were quite powerful, didn't scruple to use their power to make voting difficult where it counted, notably battleground states like Ohio and Florida. Florida was already showing itself to be its usual third-world standard when it came to voting shenanigans. Ohio had seen a smattering of that kind of manipulation by the Republicans, but the Democrats were fighting back, in this case with a massive GOTV campaign fueled by the energy of hundreds of hardworking volunteers.

"Well, I'm here to help, dad. Home can wait, until after calling hours, anyway." Giving his father a squeeze to his arm, he walked over to Laura, who was finishing up getting another volunteer ready for action. He waited until she looked up.

"Hi! Kurt, I didn't know who you were, sorry about that." She was still smiling, but looked at him a little anxiously.

"Laura, right? No problem, it's not like I'm famous or anything. I'm just here to help." Kurt's tone restored her usual cheer, just as he'd intended.

"Great. Good, I see you got some coffee, good. All right, let's get you started over here," and he followed her to an empty space at one of the long tables. "Have you done this before?"

"I have, but it looks like the setup's a little different, so how about you walk me through it?" he suggested.

She showed him how to log on to the GOTV website, and signed in using the phone at that station, and he put on the headset. He listened carefully, nodding every so often, sipping his coffee while he had the chance. He put on the headset, and Laura consulted her clipboard.

"Well, we're going to have you work on one the targeted lists, all right? For you, most of the people who come up on your screen will be new voters." She pulled out a script sheet from her clipboard and handed it to him. "So, these are partly persuasion calls. You okay with that so far?"

"No problem."

"Okay. They're persuasion calls because while these people are registered to vote, they've never done so. Most of them probably registered as part of their civics homework," Kurt nodded, knowing she was correct there, "and the key here is get them to actually go out and vote."

He looked over the basic script, nodded. She continued, "feel free to improvise some, and record your response on the drop down boxes on screen. When you hit 'enter' you'll be getting your next call soon after, when it beeps. So, are you ready to go snag some votes?"

"Aye aye, captain."

"Great." She entered one last code, and the system switched from standby to ready.

Kurt hit his stride quickly. Calling at suppertime on a Sunday night, many of his intended targets were home, and he'd gotten good responses. The teens he talked to seemed willing, for the most part, to at least listen, and many committed to voting. The list was supposed to be for those who'd registered as Democrats, but it wasn't perfect; he'd gotten a few Romney supporters, a few of whom had been rude or even nasty. This was nothing; it took a lot more than that to deter Kurt Hummel.

He heard the beep through his headset, and looked at the screen to see who was next. David Karofsky. The name was uncommon enough, and scrolling down a bit, it was a Lima address.

"Hello?" A male voice answered.

"Hello, may I speak to David?"

"Who's calling, please?"

"Hi. My name is Kurt, and I'm a volunteer for the Obama campaign."

"Uh, I'll get him." He heard the phone being put down, and the guy, probably Dave's dad, calling for his son. He waited a moment, and then listened as Dave picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Dave? It's Kurt. I'm calling from campaign headquarters -"

"Kurt? Kurt Hummel?"

"That's me. How are you, Dave?"

"I'm all right. I'm going to Ohio State, home for the weekend. It's going good. I, um," and he paused. From the noises Kurt heard, it sounded like he was moving, and he heard a door close. "I came out, at college."

"I'm happy for you, Dave. How are you doing?"

"Well, good. You were right, Kurt. It does get better. At one time, I didn't believe it, but I do now. Thank you, so much."

Kurt sighed. They'd both been through a lot, but he was so glad things were turning out okay for his former bully. "You're welcome. I'm so glad, so happy for you."

"Why'd you call, though?"

"You came up on my new voters list. I'm at the campaign office to get out the vote."

"Oh. Right. Tell Laura I said hi." Dave laughed a little.

"What?"

"You missed me. I was there earlier today. And I already voted, but I know the system doesn't know that."

Kurt laughed back a little. "I'll tell her. Who'd have thought?"

"I know, right? Well, Kurt, I guess I should leave you to persuading some voters. It's nice to hear from you, though."

"You too. Thanks."

They ended the call, and Kurt shook his head at the computer. The progam they had was great, and worked well overall, but it had its glitches. Like, not deleting the names of known strong supporters! He took the moment of quiet to sip some more coffee, and took the next few calls.

He fell into an easy rhythm, easily shaking off the occasional abusive person, and gladly educating his targeted audience in where their polling places were, and determining if they'd need a ride to the polls or not. Laura looked up at him once or twice, and his dad made the rounds of the volunteers, passing out bottles of water, giving words of encouragement. He was looking at his dad, not the screen, when the tone for the next call sounded.

"Hello?" A familiar-sounding voice answered.

"Hello. My name is Kurt, and I'm a volunteer -"

"Kurt." He stopped short, his eyes now drawn to the screen. There it was, Blaine Everett Anderson. He was there, on the phone, and he hadn't had a moment to prepare (or log off before the call hit). He drew in a breath sharply.

"Kurt? Are you still there?" Blaine's voice was strained, urgent.

"Blaine. Yes, it's me. I'm here," he answered, his voice breathy from shock, and a wave of emotion at hearing the sound of his voice. The voice that he'd heard on so many voicemails, but hadn't been able to bring himself to answer. The voice that he heard in his head a hundred times a day, thinking of him, wondering what he'd say about some random thing he encountered on his commute, how he'd respond when he put on his favorite skinny jeans, how he'd tell him he looked perfect, even when he knew it wasn't true.

At first he hadn't called him, after that horrible night and the painful next morning, too upset to want to listen to him, hurt and oh, so angry. Then, as the days ground on and he became exhausted, working too much, eating too little, and hardly sleeping, he'd started to feel like a zombie. Moving through a haze of pain, but unable to get out of it, and not knowing how to begin to talk with the one person he wanted most. It reached a point where he had to admit Rachel was right, that talking to him was crucial, but he didn't want to do it any way other than in person. But when it came to it, coming home this weekend, with plans to stay until the day after election day, he'd gravitated towards his dad first, rationalizing that the purpose of the mission, as he'd told Isabelle, his boss, was to help in the Ohio GOTV effort. He knew he was being chicken, but hadn't planned on talking to Blaine quite this soon. And certainly not in this setting.

"It's so good to hear you." The voice on the phone sounded broken; as if the wound were hours, not weeks, old.

"It's good to hear you too," Kurt answered, meaning it. Though he hated how Blaine sounded.

"Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"Where are you?"

He looked around, cleared his throat, and answered. "I'm here, in dad's office."

"How long?"

Kurt thought he knew what was behind that. Blaine would be wondering if he were still shut out, if Kurt had planned to see him at all; if he had any reason to hope. He decided not to answer that.

"Blaine, where are _you_?" He asked softly.

"Home. I was just doing some homework."

"Blaine?"

"Yes?" The voice sounded more hopeful now, responding to Kurt's warmer tone.

"Will you meet me at the Lima Bean?" The words were out before Kurt could finish thinking them, but once spoken he knew that this was now what he wanted more than anything.

There was silence a moment on the end of the line. Blaine answered, sounding like his voice was chocked with tears. "When?"

"Now."

Blaine managed a watery, "Okay."

"Blaine, I … I can't wait to see you."

"Kurt?"

"Um hmm?" Kurt's eyes were now shining with tears, and he was putting his coat on, getting ready to go.

"I love you."

"I know. I love you too."

Kurt barely had to explain, as his father had seen his son's state from across the room. Walking the aisle behind him, he caught the name still displaying on the computer screen.

"Go, son. I'll tell Laura, no problem. Hey, I'll even take up where you left off." He'd reached over to hug him, and sent his son out of the office with a gentle push.

Burt enjoyed talking to his constituents, but still felt relieved when the shift was over. He listened to Laura congratulating the volunteers on their efforts this day, and walked over to her when the group dissipated.

She grinned at him. "You think we're gonna see him later today?"

"I wouldn't count on it. Nice work, by the way."

"You don't think he suspects, do you?" She hadn't seen him leave, preoccupied in running the call center.

"Not a bit. I owe you one, kid."

She giggled. "More like you owe Derek over there," and she pointed at her boyfriend, as he logged off his computer. "Listmaster over there knows his stuff."

Burt smiled, and Laura noted how all the fatigue of recent weeks dropped away from his face. "You got it. I owe you both."

They joked a bit about the advantages of having a congressman in your debt, and Burt got away from the cute twentysomething couple as soon as it was polite to do so, happy thoughts of wanting to tell Carole all about it, and even happier thoughts of anticipating his son, maybe now on the way to mending his broken heart.

**A/N: I've spent a good bit of time this election season, volunteering both on the phones and canvassing door to door. I urge you to vote, if you're in the US and eligible. This election is indeed crucial. There is no doubt in my mind that Burt and Kurt would both be on the side of the candidate who has declared in favor of marriage equality, not to mention a host of other issues congressman Hummel would probably support.**

**For me, klaine will always be endgame, and I think these silly boys really do need to just get together and talk it out!**

**I would love to hear from you, as always (well, except if you're a Romney supporter who wants to be nasty, then maybe not so much).**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: this really did start as a one-shot, but then … people were _following_ it. And a few expressed interest in more … and well, I'm not in a grinchy mood _at all,_ as most of you by now know the happy news: President Obama won! Yay! Oh, and I still don't own Glee. I think you knew that already.**

Kurt walked over to the Lima Bean, just a few blocks away from his dad's congressional office (and temporary GOTV headquarters for this part of Ohio). The wind was chilly, and raked through his hair, which he didn't think of at all. He only wondered if he'd get there first, and hoped to a God he didn't believe in that he wouldn't have to wait long if he was. Suddenly, the need to see Blaine was more than urgent, as if every additional minute of waiting was like the universe punishing him for all that had gone before; all the texts he'd read but not responded to, the voicemails he couldn't delete, but worst of all, refusing that night to listen to Blaine's apology or the rest of his story.

He thought back to the morning after. The surprisingly calm conversation with Finn, how quiet everything was. Whether Finn's exit inspired his own, he wasn't sure, but he knew too late that it had been just as stupid: when Rachel came out, looking for Finn and learning that he'd gone from her yet again, he hadn't even stayed very long to comfort her. Instead, after consoling her in the most perfunctory way, he'd told her he just had to get out, and that he would return after Blaine was gone.

Days later he'd made the mistake of trying to commiserate with her, and she'd yelled at him. He remembered the conversation perfectly. Ouch...

_"What a pair we are. Finn won't answer your messages, and I can't answer his."_

_"Oh no, you don't get to do that!" her voice was headed towards shrieking range._

_"Do what?"_

_"You don't get to lump us together like that. I want to talk to Finn, I need to. And _he_ wants to talk to you, but you won't let him – it's not the same at all! And you act like you're fine with that, and you know you're not, and you prove it every time you check to see if he's still trying!" She'd ended loudly, enough that if their neighbors were home, they heard it._

He reached the Lima Bean and let himself in quickly, closing the door against the brisk wind. He reached the counter, rubbed his hands together, and addressed the barista, who was looking at him expectantly.

"Um, sir, are ready to make an order?"

"Yes. Yes, I am, thanks. A large grande nonfat mocha, and a medium drip. And two of those cinnamon raisin scones, please."

"You remember my coffee order." That voice, right behind him, almost in his ear. He immediately flushed all the way to his collarbones, turning around to see him there, tears springing to his eyes. And then that was all he could focus on: Blaine; his beautiful eyes, imploring, full of hope, and right there.

"Always," he managed to croak out. Blaine must have caught the girl's eye, as he dug into his pocket, retrieving his wallet.

"Please, I've got it," he murmured. "Keep the change, all right?" he addressed the barista, who rewarded him with a bright smile. Then she went to prepare their order.

Kurt grabbed Blaine's arm, to move him away from the counter. "Blaine, I am so glad you came. You've always been more forgiving than I am." His gaze dropped to his feet, remembering for the thousandth time what Rachel had reminded him of too many times. Not only had he not let Blaine apologize properly, he really still didn't know what had happened. Or not happened. Typical of Blaine though; still responding with hope and the desire to talk things out, even after for all he knew Kurt had blocked all his messages and texts. Tears really did come now, thinking that he didn't deserve this; whatever Blaine had done, he'd punished him cruelly these past few weeks. Never mind that that punishment had had its own powerful, painful recoil. He knew Blaine; knew that his desire for physical closeness (adorably manifested by his hugginess and tendency to randomly kiss him whenever they were alone) was matched only by his desire to talk to him. In this way, they were opposites: when upset Kurt knew he froze everyone out, sometimes viciously, and would refuse to talk to whoever he was most upset at, until he was ready to do it, when he knew he'd be able to keep controlled. Blaine held very little back from Kurt, and was quick to reassure, or seek reassurance, even if he couldn't get the words out right.

And Rachel, then Burt, then Finn, and then Glee friends who tried to reach out to him, seemed to independently wonder the same thing. Not knowing what Blaine had actually done, maybe it wasn't at all like he thought? Blaine's strong reaction to the whole "Chandler Incident" as they came to call it, certainly suggested that. Weeks later now, Kurt was growing to realize he didn't care so much. Burt's advice came back to him.

"_Well, kiddo, you don't really know what he wanted to tell you, right? I mean, whatever it was, and I know this is just between you two, one fact we do know is Blaine told you about it, and it sounds like he did that right away. Did it occur to you he probably could have gotten away with it if he wanted to?"_

No, dad, he mused bitterly, at the time that did _not_ occur to me. Because I'm an idiot.

"Kurt, are you okay? You really look pale." Blaine's words snapped him back to the present.

"I am now. Maybe." He smiled a small smile at Blaine, as they headed towards a table in the corner, near the fireplace.

"Kurt." Blaine looked at him, searching his face, and reached his hands across the table. Kurt closed the distance between them, and covered Blaine's hands with his own. "Gee, your hands are just like ice!"

Kurt cooed back, "Baby, it's cold outside."

Blaine stared back in disbelief. _Am I dreaming again?_ He shook his head, failing to summon up any answering verse of the song, unable to think straight. "Windy too," he teased back, finally, pointing to his own head, and looking at Kurt's windblown hair.

"Really. Hadn't noticed," Kurt snarked back, but his tone was gentle. Kristin, their barista, bustled over to their table, bearing a tray with their order.

"Here you are. Enjoy!" She smiled at their joined hands, which they moved to make room for the tray.

"Thanks. We will," Kurt assured her, and then she was off.

"Blaine, I never let you finish anything that night. That was wrong. I … I'm sorry, I just couldn't -"

"Kurt, I'm just glad you're talking to me, you have no idea," Blaine blurted out. "I can't let you apologize. Please, will you let me do that now?" Kurt nodded, and Blaine took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Kurt, I realized I was wrong. Immediately. You have no idea! I can't believe how stupid I was, but it made me see that I'd done to you what I begged you never to do to me – instead of telling you how I was feeling, and what I needed, I just held it in, tried to pretend I was okay, and didn't just tell you that I needed you -"

"Blaine -"

"No, Kurt, I've got to get this out." Kurt nodded, but looked pained. "It didn't mean anything! I swear it. All it made me realize was that you're it, Kurt. You're the only one for me. And that I needed to talk to you, and find a way to make it work, no matter what. And that I'd need to see you, more often than we'd planned, and that -"

"Blaine!" Something in Kurt's tone stopped him, and he looked up to meet Kurt's eyes, which were fiercely intense. "Blaine," he continued in a much softer tone, "I believe you. And I know you want to tell me about it, that you tried, so hard. So, just get it out, so we can get past this."

Blaine studied Kurt's face, swallowed, and looked pale, almost as if he were going to be sick. He breathed a few deep breaths, took a sip of his coffee, and nodded. "All right. Eli. I met him on a facebook group, for gay youth in Ohio. He friended me, and it just started with, well, innocent chats. Then he looked me up, I guess, and his messages got more personal, and flirty. I was so stupid, Kurt!" Kurt just reached over the table and grabbed his hands, and gave a squeeze, urging him to just get it out. "I was so lonely. And then … well, I got pissed at you, when it seemed like I couldn't get you to pick up my calls, not even when I won student council president. He asked me to come over. Kurt, I don't know if I can do this!" His voice rose, then he buried his face in his hands.

Kurt sighed. He got up, and walked over to stand behind Blaine's chair, then he reached down, folding Blaine into a hug from behind, and kissed his cheek. His lips grazed their way across his face, coming to rest by his ear, where he murmured, "Baby, I know now you have to tell me. I love you. So much. I never stopped." He wasn't surprised that this was met by sobs from his lover. Relief? Remorse? Probably a mixture, he thought, pulling up a chair to be able to sit close beside him, both their backs now to the rest of the restaurant's customers, looking into the fireplace.

Blaine twisted around to face him now, tears staining his face. "You don't know how much I've wished to hear that. I love you, so much. I don't deserve you, Kurt," and his voice broke at this.

"Shh, don't go there, Blaine. Finish now if you want to; best to rip off the bandage in one go." He hoped his analogy would somehow help. He added, with a shy smile, "courage."

Blaine shifted his gaze to the fireplace, deciding the focal point might help, and knowing he didn't want to look at Kurt if he was going to tell him this. "Eli was very open. I wasn't there long before he was massaging my shoulders, and then his hands moved to my back, and then he was in front of me, and … and he kissed me. It felt sort of good, for like a second, and then it didn't, at all. His hands were all over me, reaching for my fly, and … and then I pushed him off, told him I didn't want to do that, I couldn't. He left for a minute, and got me a glass of water, and acted all understanding, and then he tried again. He, he started palming me, like right away! Then I felt sick, and pushed him away harder, and told him I had to go, and got the hell out of there. I puked all over the shrubbery outside his house before I could get to my car, and got home. That was Thursday of that week, Kurt. I booked a flight to see you the very next day, I just had to see you, to beg you to forgive me -"

"Enough, Blaine," Kurt whispered, and again reached over to hold him. "God, you're such an idiot," he murmured, kissing his hair. "You had me thinking you'd done, well, everything! What is _wrong_ with me? Why did I just think the worst like that?"

Blaine was crying again now. "I felt like it was just as bad. I mean, I let him start, and for a second I thought I'd let him do it. Kurt, I am so, so sorry!"

"We've got to get out of here. Is anyone there at your house?"

Blaine hiccoghed, answering, "No. Not for hours."

* * *

Burt and Carole looked up from the MS-NBC show they were watching, along with Laura and Derek, who were staying at their house in Kurt's old room. Carole had remarked earlier that it was funny that Kurt would be bunking in with Finn, and they shared a chuckle about how this was now a problem the boys were well over. Finn really did love Kurt like a brother, and they were better together than they would have dared to dream, back when they got married. Kate joined them, enjoying a well-deserved beer. It had been a long day. She'd be sleeping on the couch, and insisted yet again that it was fine, comfy even. It was near midnight when Kurt quietly let himself in.

"Hey, bud!" Burt greeted him. Even in the dim light, Kurt's face told him what he needed to know. Kurt looked tired, for sure, but happy, the light returned to his eyes.

"Hey, dad. Wow, Rachel's on late. Cool." Everyone in the room shared a love of the feisty Rachel Maddow.

"Yup, special pre-election coverage." Burt checked his watch. "And it's now officially Monday."

"Ohio can do it, Burt, I have a good feeling about this," Kate enthused. "The canvassers are psyched, and we have more people willing to drive people to the polls than need rides. It's awesome."

Burt smiled at his staffer. She'd traveled from her home in Connecticut to help make sure Ohio swung blue, and her dedication was firm.

"True that," Laura teased, trying to sound 'gangsta'. "No, really, Burt, I think she's right."

"God, I hope you both are. Freakin' Florida, can't count on those bozos." Burt snorted.

Burt followed his son, who had been smiling and nodding at the banter, and who had gone to get some water. "So, um, I take it ..." he began, nervously, all of a sudden.

Kurt spun around, and caught his dad in a quick hug, before literally jumping up and down and exclaiming, "yes! Yes, it's going to be all right with us, dad. Why didn't I listen to you sooner? God, I wish I'd gotten here faster, you have no idea -"

"Kurt, Kurt!" he interrupted. "You don't need to tell me just how stubborn you can be." He reached over to give him a much more sedate hug. "I'm happy for you. I'm just glad you're back together. I was worried about you, kiddo."

"I know, dad. I've just got to tell Carole."

"Sweetie." She smiled, standing behind him, and kissed his cheek, then held him too. "I heard. Of course, you know one look at your face kind of gave it away."

They shared a late snack, the three of them discovering that they were indeed hungry, and Kurt was happy that Carole's organization skills included keeping plenty of lean cold cuts and sandwich makings available. Kurt went to clean up from their late meal, but Carole shooed him away, insisting she had it covered.

Kurt joined Kate, Laura, and Derek in the living room, and tapped Laura on the arm.

"Laura?"

"Yeah, Kurt?"

"You got room for another volunteer tomorrow?" Kurt asked with a smile.

She teased him back. "We need canvassers, mostly. Is he good at persuasion?"

Kurt grinned. "Absolutely. The best."

**A/N: So there you have it. Happy post election day! And yes, Ohio came through (so did New Hampshire). Congrats to all the hard working staffers, and volunteers. The people have spoken!**

**I'd love your feedback, and thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry, dear fans of this story (and maybe even my others) … I've changed my name; not something I really wanted to do, but I do have my reasons. I'm still me – I'll now just go by Nightingale63. I do plan to add an epilogue, soon, and hope you'll bear with me. Please feel free to PM me if you have any questions, and thanks for your patience.


	4. Many happy returns

**A/N: I still don't own Glee, or any songs or products you may recognize.**

_Tuesday afternoon: four hours until the polls close, November 6, 2012._

"Which house is next?" Blaine squinted at the numbers on the mailboxes, trying to match up to the printout.

How can he look adorable when he squints? Kurt didn't know, didn't care, and Blaine was baffled by the faraway smile on Kurt's face when he turned back to look at him. "Twenty one, silly."

They'd gone down this particular road in descending order. Blaine nodded, finding the address, and pulled over, ready to hop out with Kurt.

Strictly speaking, this phase didn't require two people to knock; some teams routinely had a driver and a person to do the knocking and talking. But they were making good time, and Blaine couldn't resist being at Kurt's side whenever possible. The wind was starting to bite a little, and he put the collar of his navy pea coat up. Kurt rang the doorbell, and adjusted his scarf. And they waited. They both stole a last glance at the list; it was always better if they had the name of the person they were seeking at the ready.

An elderly lady came to the door, and peered owlishly over her glasses at them, not unkindly. "Hello? Are you two Mormons? I'm afraid I -"

"No, ma'am, we're volunteers from the Obama campaign," and Blaine flashed a friendly, warm smile at her. "Are you Elsie Addams?"

"Yes I am." Humor sparkled now in her blue eyes, and her wrinkles became more prominent when she smiled. "I was just teasing you."

"Well, nice to meet you, I'm Kurt, and we'd like to know if you've voted yet, ma'am, or if you'd need a ride to the polls?" Kurt's eyes flicked to the list; she was 81 years old.

"No, boys, I voted already, with my granddaughter, Lucy. But thank you."

They'd chatted with her a few moments, and then they were off to find the next person on the printout. Blaine giggled. "You should've seen the look on your face when she asked if we were Mormons."

Kurt shot a minor _bitch please _glare at him. "Seriously, Blaine? Without even getting into politics or beliefs, I've _seen_ Mormon missionaries. Fashion challenged doesn't begin to cover it."

Blaine snorted, so happy to be back to this comfortable place with snarky, funny Kurt. They'd only just gotten back together, but they both marveled at how, once they started talking, the bitter memory of the breakup started to retreat so quickly. He couldn't believe it sometimes, wanting to pinch himself to be sure he really was awake. He'd smiled so much in the last two days his face actually hurt.

"You're sure you're not going by those guys from the Broadway show?" he teased back.

"Really, Blaine? No, I've been accosted by the real deal. At least three times." He pointed back to the list. Next right, onto Oak Street.

Blaine nodded, and listened for the next address. They got through their list with half and hour to spare, and headed back to campaign headquarters.

* * *

Burt was working the phones, and so was Carole. Kate met them as they came in, to collect their list. "How many needed rides?"

"Just those three I marked," Kurt answered her. "What next?" He nodded gratefully at Blaine, who joined his side with a fresh coffee for each of them.

"Well, if you don't mind going out again so soon ..." she smiled, and headed over to the packets.

* * *

_Three hours later..._

"The polls have closed now," Blaine murmured into Kurt's ear.

"Sexiest voting day news update ever," Kurt sighed, meaning every word. "And...?"

"So that means no more calls, no more door knocking," Blaine circled to stand in front of him, "and here I am, with my _boyfriend_," God, he thought, loving being able to say that again, "with nothing to do," and he waggled his eyebrows and smiled a special, sexy smile that belonged to Kurt.

"I'd have to disagree," Kurt's tone was all business. Blaine looked up at him, a little surprised. "We do have a party to go to -"

And Blaine smirked and leaned in to kiss him; a kiss which quickly became heated, and passionate. They finally broke away for a moment, and Blaine asked softly, "what party?"

"Goof," Kurt teased him, and drew him in for another kiss. God, he'd missed Blaine, so much. He loved the way Blaine hummed happily as he held him and their tongues caressed each other, the way his body relaxed, melting into his own.

They did join Burt and the rest of the staffers and volunteers about an hour later. Burt didn't need to question his son, looking at his happy, peaceful expression, as he crossed the room, fingers intertwined with Blaine's. "Hey, kiddo, you decided to come over!"

"Hey, dad. So, where are we at?" He hardly needed to ask; they atmosphere in the room was electric, excited, everyone just waiting for the word to break out into outright cheering and partying.

"Getting there, son." He pointed to the MS-NBC map, with the electoral count. "Ohio can really get a chance to shine," he said, a little wistfully.

Carole joined him. "It will, Burt. The projections are good." She smiled at the crowd, milling around, grabbing pizza and drinks, eyes glued mostly the the television screens. "They put in so much work."

Burt nodded. No one could deny that. It was close in Ohio, but money considerations aside, they had the volunteers, superior technology (or so he'd heard, though he didn't doubt it), and an excited electorate. Despite the hardships and long lines at some polling places, the turnout was fantastic, and he knew the young vote was doing well.

Laura looked up from her computer, and grinned widely. "They didn't announce it yet, but I think we did it! By a good margin!"

Minutes later, the news team confirmed it; they changed channels, and all the major networks agreed, and were now reporting it: Obama had won in Ohio, and was now projected to be the winner!

They all finally went home around 2 AM, sooner than many had expected; really by 11:20 or so, Eastern time, no one had really questioned the outcome. Cheering, celebrating, eating; all of these things happened, but the core volunteers and staffers were all tired, and the party wrapped sooner than expected for all but a few die hards, who'd moved on to a local pub, open late for tonight.

"Dad, you look beat. Let us finish up here," Kurt pleaded.

"You know, kiddo, I'm not even gonna argue," he grinned back. "See you in the morning." And he found Carole, to bring her home.

Kurt scanned the room, huge piles of pizza boxes, overflowing recycle bins from all the water bottles, sodas, and beers, red white and blue decorations not quite as chipper looking as earlier tonight. The whole room had an air of happy exhaustion about it. He smiled at Blaine, who was already stuffing a large trash bag, and got to work, to tackle at least the big stuff.

* * *

They eased themselves into Kurt's room as quietly as they could some time later. The campaign office would still need some work, but it wasn't too bad. The tiredness hit Kurt, and he cut short his moisturizing routine, settling in with Blaine.

"Hey, you," Blaine crooned, pulling Kurt beside him.

"Should I be keeping you up on a school night," Kurt teased.

"Absolutely. I may just insist. And I'm not going in today, not a chance."

Kurt smiled as he kissed Blaine again, at how he was starting to sound like himself, like _them_. He'd seen flashes, these past few days, of the pain that hadn't quite died, of a hesitancy that shouldn't be there, and, when he thought no one was looking, at the sadness and regret that seeped back in at times on Blaine's face. He worried, knowing he was returning to New York and his internship on Thursday.

"Blaine?"

"Mmm?" he murmured, interrupted, but his attention was drawn by Kurt's serious tone.

"When do you think it'll be legal to marry in Ohio?"

Blaine propped himself up on his elbows, suddenly much more awake, and attentive. "Umm, not any time soon, as far as I know." Politics, he thought? What was in his beautiful boyfriend's mind?

Kurt turned to him, facing him fully, and caressed his lover's face. "These things are important."

Blaine murmured his assent, and leaned into the touch. Kurt smiled at him fondly; if Blaine were a cat, he'd be purring.

"Maybe it's not so abstract for me." Kurt watched as Blaine's eyes snapped open, eyes wide. He kissed his nose, gently, and backed up to speak to him better. "Blaine, I don't want to go back, it's going to be so hard," he whispered. He went on, quickly, not wanting to give him time to launch into another round of I'm sorry's, "being with you, like this, it's so right. I want forever."

Blaine's face flushed, his adorable triangular eyebrows shot up, and Kurt grasped both his hands in his. "We can't lose each other again, Blaine. I promised you two days ago that no matter what, I will always answer your calls or texts, even if it's really late when I'm able to do it. And even if I ever get mad at you," his voice hitched there, "I'll keep that promise from now on."

Blaine's eyes were now glazed with tears, and he nodded, and reached out to hold Kurt close, unable to speak.

Kurt broke away, and lifted Blaine's chin a little, to look at him with love plainly written all over his face. "But I don't think that's enough. I'll call you more, and you'll come out more than we planned originally, but I need more. I'd get out of bed and kneel and all, but I'm too damned comfy, all cozy and wrapped up here in you..." he watched as Blaine's face looked transfigured by hope. "Blaine Everett Anderson, I don't want you to be just my boyfriend anymore … will you make me the happiest of men, and consent to be my husband?"

Blaine gazed at him in shock before getting out a choked "yes!" followed by lots more yesses, as he ecstatically kissed his new fiance.

* * *

Kurt peered blearily at the clock radio on his bedside table. Almost 10, he sighed, and looked happily at the man he would someday wed, curled onto his side, his arm flung across Kurt's own chest, one leg draped over his. Blaine was so gone, and he wondered just how behind he'd gotten on his sleep in recent weeks. He angled his head down to kiss the curls just under his nose, and caress the shoulders of the man he loved. Blaine made a happy, deep noise in his sleep, and scooted even closer to him. Adorable.

About an hour later they joined the rest of the Hudmel clan and the staffers who'd stayed over, the TV in the living room full of news of President Obama's reelection, and coverage of all the other outcomes. Everyone was in a good mood, and Finn noticed them first.

"Dudes!" He smiled at them, happy to see them together again, though he noticed they looked, if that was possible, even happier than they had yesterday. Or had he just been really busy? "There's still muffins, and donuts, and whatever in the kitchen."

"Thanks, Finn," Kurt answered his brother. Then he cleared his throat as the show went to commercial, and spoke louder. "Everyone. We have something we'd like to tell you. Blaine and I plan to do something currently illegal in 41 states, and we wanted to tell you first."

Burt shared a look with his son, knowing exactly what he meant. Everyone else soon caught up, and the room was soon filled with loud whoops and sounds of celebration. He crossed over to them, and enveloped them both in a bear hug. Stepping back, he spoke directly to Blaine. "It's official now, kiddo, at least for me. You are one of us. Don't ever go thinking otherwise. Son," he turned to Kurt, "I'm happy for you. You haven't set a date or anything..."

"Oh God, no, dad," Kurt was happily flustered, "not yet." He gave Blaine a happy peck and turned to his dad. "But, since I'm going back so soon, I've got to get shopping," and he picked up Blaine's left hand and kissed his ring finger. Blaine flushed with happiness, feeling whole. He would hate sending Kurt back to New York, that hadn't changed. But sort of, everything had, in the best way he could imagine.

**A/N: And they lived happily ever after. I actually hadn't planned on quite this course of events, but in the writing of it I swear Mr. Kurt Hummel stepped in and insisted. How could I resist? I hope you've all enjoyed this, and you know I love hearing from you.**


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